Lt Shane Wolfe's Boot Camp
by Jenna Cassie Herdz
Summary: There's only one rule here. She'll have to do things HIS way...no highway option.
1. Miss Delinquent, Meet Lt Buzzkill

**A/N:** Welcome to my Pacifier fic! I do not own the Pacifier, Disney does. God, i wish i owned Vin Diesel though...lol! well, need i say anything more? enjoy!

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Chapter 1: Miss Delinquent, Meet Lt. Buzz-kill

"I can't believe you're doing this, mom," Joyce seethed, slumping in the passenger seat of the car. "I don't _need_ a babysitter while you go out of the country. I'm nineteen, I can take care of myself."

"You're staying with him longer than that," her mother, Rose, retorted, driving down a street slowly and searching the numbers on the houses. "Shane's one of the 'guys'."

Joyce snapped her emerald gaze to Rose in horror and sputtered, "O-One of the '_guys_'?!"

Rose nodded, still looking around the street.

"Why?!"

"'Why?!'" Rose replied, glancing at her incredulously. "You were _arrested_ last night for drunk driving…for the _third_ _time_! I've tried not bringing my work and military attitude home, but you're getting to be too much. I can't do this myself anymore. Your father---!" She cut herself off and Joyce looked out the window to hide the sorrow in her eyes as her mother sighed but continued in a low voice. "Your father always took care of discipline."

"Yeah," Joyce replied in the same low voice. The car stopped and Joyce shot her gaze to Rose again as she looked at a house out the driver's window. She was staring at a pretty two-story house with toys scattered around the front lawn. Joyce couldn't deny, the house was pretty, but it didn't seem like a place a former S.E.A.L. would live.

"Uh, he _lives_ here?" Joyce wondered and her mother looked back at her with wide emerald eyes Joyce her inherited from her.

"No," Rose replied, stopping the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt. "He watches the family that lives here sometimes. He also works at the school as the wrestling coach."

"Oh, goody," Joyce groaned, unbuckling her own belt and Rose gave her a glare.

"Don't think you're going to be having _any_ fun," her mother retorted. "I've given him full permission to discipline you _his_ way."

"Whatever," Joyce replied, rolling her eyes and getting out of the car. Rose growled and got out as well, popping the trunk for Joyce to get her suitcase and locking the car. They made their way up the walkway and stood at the door as Joyce pulled out her iPod and stuck the earphones in her ears after Rose rang the doorbell. She looked at her daughter and pulled the earplugs out in one yank.

"Ow!" Joyce squeaked, rubbing her ears as Rose snatched her iPod from her. "Hey---!"

"You're not getting this back until you shape up," Rose replied, wrapping the cord for the earphones around the device.

"Mom, you know I have to have my music," Joyce said, giving her mom a blank look. Pleading with her would do no good, she knew that.

"Well, you'll just have to without it for a while," her mom replied. "When Shane gives me a good report on your behavior, you'll get it back."

Joyce let out a sigh and rolled her eyes as she faced the door again, a hand on her hip, a knee bent. Rose glanced at her and shook her head at her own lack of backbone when it came to her daughter. She could hardly believe she let her walk out of the house the way she was dressed.

Joyce was wearing a black, stylishly shredded tank top with chains on one side that swept around to the back, but did nothing to hide the high cut of the top to show off the side of her stomach. She also wore black studded glove on her left hand and had a fake black tattoo on her upper arm, a tiny denim skirt, fishnet stockings and tall black leather, high-heeled boots.

"What is taking them so long?!" Joyce wondered and took the liberty of banging on the door. A second after she stopped it was open and she was staring at a huge man with a shaven head and brown eyes and she jumped back a bit. His eyes scanned her in evaluation then turned on her mother and he seemed to recognize her.

"Petty Officer," he nodded in a deep voice and he turned his gaze back to Joyce in more disapproving evaluation. "I take it this is your daughter?"

"Yes," Rose groaned and Joyce rolled her eyes at her mother's tone. Shane's eyes flashed at the action and he straightened slightly as she looked back at him.

"What?" she snapped, shrugging the shoulder of tattooed arm.

"Oh, you're gonna have fun here," he replied with a devious smirk, making her scoff and shake her head but he turned back to Rose. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you," Rose nodded as he stepped aside to let them in. Joyce grabbed her suitcase to follow her mom in but felt it being pulled out of her hand. She looked up at Shane as he simply took the suitcase from her and they both stood tall.

"Thanks," she muttered, walking toward the living room where she saw her mother walking toward the couch.

"Have a seat, please," Shane entreated, leaving Joyce's suitcase next to the door and walking toward them. The two women sat on the couch and Shane went toward the kitchen as he asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Just water, please, thank you," Rose replied.

"Do you have beer?" Joyce wondered, leaning over the arm of the couch to face him. Shane stopped in his tracks and spun on his heel to look at her in disbelief.

"How old are you?" he asked and Joyce opened her mouth to answer.

"Too young to drink," Rose interrupted and Shane glared at Joyce who rolled her eyes and sat back in the couch as she crossed her legs.

"That's gonna stop while you're here," he warned her and she only scoffed again as he went to get Rose's water.

"So, where are the Plummers?" Rose wondered as Joyce began twirling a piece of her long, caramel hair in boredom.

"Oh, Julie took the kids to Hawaii for Spring Break," Shane replied. "She wanted me to housesit while they were away. Their mom thought the kids needed some time away from the house."

"That's nice," Rose nodded and Shane came back with her water. Handing her the glass he sat next to her and Joyce sighed in boredom, but they both ignored her. "So, you're staying here until they come back?"

"Yeah," Shane nodded then looked at Joyce. "You're gonna have to sleep on the couch. There's only one guest room and I'm in it."

"Can't _you_ sleep on the couch?" she wondered.

"You're gonna have to _earn_ that guest room, starting now," he replied, pointing a threatening finger at her. Rose only smiled in satisfaction and sat back to let Shane do his thing. "From now on, you're doing things _my_ way…no highway option."

"You realize, I'm not as young as these kids you baby-sit?" Joyce shot back.

"You certainly don't act it," Shane replied and Rose almost choked on her water, snapping Joyce's gaze to her.

"Mom! Do something!" she demanded and Rose only raised an eyebrow at her.

"I thought you said you could take care of _yourself_, being nineteen and all," Rose retorted. Joyce glared at her mother but the other woman just took another drink of water.

"Alright," Shane cut in, standing and both women looked at him. "First things first, you're not dressing like _that_ anymore."

"What are you? The fashion police?" Joyce spat, standing as well, not letting herself be intimidated by him.

"There are small children that live here," Shane explained. "You're not dressing like a slut in front of them."

"Slut?" Joyce echoed incredulously and Shane only nodded her, making her glare at him.

"You look to be Zoe's size, I'll get some clothes for you," he leaned to rummage through a bag sitting on the coffee table.

"I'm not wearing anything I don't _want_ to, just understand that right now," she warned him as he stood tall with something in his hand.

"You'll wear what you're told," he said, staring down at her. "You'll _do_ what you're told, _when _you'retold, and you'll _go_ where you're told. Not that you'll be going anywhere _I _won't be."

Joyce rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

"Now, your mother tells me you have a tendency to leave without telling her where you're going," Shane went on. "That stops now, too." He gripped her wrist, and she tried to pull away but he held it fast and his other hand slipped something around her wrist and it clocked in place. Joyce pulled her hand away and stared at the huge bracelet in disbelief. "That's a tracking device with a panic button on it. If you touch the panic button, you'd better be dying."

"I just told you, I'm not wearing what I don't want to," Joyce said, holding her arm out. "And I'm _not_ wearing _this_."

Shane leaned close to her face to stare into her eyes and she inched back only slightly before he said, "Too bad."

"Well, I'd love to see how you handle her further, Lieutenant," Rose chimed in, standing and handing her now empty glass to Shane, "but I have a plane to catch." She turned to her daughter as Shane backed away to go to the kitchen. "I know you probably hate me right now, but do you think I can get a hug before I leave?"

Joyce sighed and shrugged with a small nod. Rose smiled and wrapped her arms around her daughter as Joyce only stood for a moment. She finally pulled her arms around Rose and hugged her back. Shane watched from the kitchen as one Joyce's suspiciously moved down to Rose's waist but looked away to put the glass he'd just washed away.

The two women pulled away and Rose gave Joyce a quick kiss on the cheek before heading for the door, Shane coming out of the kitchen. Joyce slid her hands into the small pockets of her mini-skirt and followed the two to the door.

"Don't worry about your daughter, Petty Officer," Shane assured her as they walked onto the front step. "She'll be safe with me."

"Yeah, mom," Joyce smiled, mockingly and the two looked at her. "Look! He's already given me an awesome gift! Isn't this bracelet pretty?!" She held up her wrist, and her smile disappeared as she rolled her eyes and walked back into the house to head for the kitchen. As she walked away she slid her iPod, which she'd stolen back from her mother's jacket pocket, further into her pocket with a sly smile.

Rose and Shane watched Joyce walk away and Rose let out a sigh in exhaustion. Shane looked back at her as she rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"I'm sorry about this, Shane," she sighed and looked up at him again. "I just--- Ever since Chris died she's been angry and rebellious. This is what I've had to deal with for five years. I'm at my wits end. I thought, maybe you could get through to her since…"

She trailed off, but he knew what she meant and wondered, "Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"I'm not even sure if Chris is the issue," Rose shrugged. "It could be a number of things. Maybe it's me? Maybe it's because I didn't raise her the way I _should_ have."

"Should have?" Shane echoed.

"You know," she shrugged again. "The way you and I were raised."

"Probably would've made things worse," Shane assured her with a slight smirk as Rose sighed again.

"I really appreciate this," she said, sincerely. "I figured this was the closest thing to boot camp I could afford…It's free."

Shane chuckled and nodded then said, "You'd better get going. You'll miss your flight. I'll send you daily reports on her progress."

"I don't expect I'll be seeing her for the next month or so," Rose smirked. "I'm really sorry about this."

"She's in for a rude awakening, Rose," he smirked back. "This is my specialty. You should have seen the Plummer kids _before_ I showed up."

Rose nodded and they shook hands before she headed for the car. Shane watched as she got in and drove away then turned and shut the door. He heard some shuffling in the kitchen and saw Joyce going from the fridge to the pantry. He watched her do this a few times and when she spotted him, she stopped and face him.

"What are looking for?" he asked and her eyes shifted nervously as she shifted her weight slightly.

"Uh…nothing," she lied and Shane glared at her knowingly.

"There's no alcohol here," he told her. "The majority of people who live here aren't old enough to drink…including _you_. Mrs. Plummer doesn't drink at all, and neither do I, so you're out of luck."

"Damn," she whispered to herself and Shane flashed a burned glance at her.

"You better not curse around the kids when they come back," he warned.

"Or what?" she smirked, leaning on the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. "You'll slit my tongue in two?"

"I would never do that," he replied, walking to the opposite side of the counter to face her. "That's too much trouble. I'd just cut it out."

Joyce's eyes widened for a split second but they quickly returned to normal size as she swallowed.

"I was kidding," he said, emotionlessly. "I wouldn't do that either."

Joyce only nodded, but still said nothing as he straightened and headed for the front door.

"W-Where're you going?" she called. He didn't answer but he returned to the kitchen with her suitcase and set it on the dining room table to open. She quickly rounded the counter and went to take her suitcase back but he was already rummaging through it.

"What do you think you're---?!"

He cut her off by walking away and into the kitchen. She frowned at him in confusion then turned to suitcase to organize it again. He suddenly came back with a trash bag and shoved her away to put her clothes in it.

"Oh, imitating the fashion police again, are you?" she wondered sarcastically as she just watched him stuff her clothes in the garbage bag.

She knew she couldn't do anything about it. No matter how tough she thought she was, she knew she couldn't take on the training of a former Navy S.E.A.L. He was huge, besides. Any man could over-power her, but this guy would toss her like she was nothing.

Shane tied the bag off and tossed it to her. She caught it with a grunt and he couldn't help but smirk in amusement when she took a step back to balance herself. He closed the suitcase and zipped it shut so the remainder of what was in it wouldn't fall out when he placed it back on the floor.

"We'll stop and leave those at the Salvation Army on our way to the store," he said as he headed for the front door to grab the keys and his jacket.

"Whoa, whoa, wait," she called and he stopped as he turned to frown at her. "My clothes aren't going to the Salvation Army! They're designer! I can't just get rid of them like this!"

"Look, none of these clothes are regulation in this house," he explained, militantly. "And come to think of it…you're _not_ going out like that."

Shane gripped her wrist and she dropped the bag as he started dragging her down the hall and up the stairs. He marched into the guest room and let go of her wrist to walk to the bureau and pull out some clothes.

"Uh, I'm not wearing any of _your_ clothes," she said, pulling her earphones from her ears and shutting off her iPod. "They're gonna be too big."

He said nothing as he turned and tossed a shirt and some pants at her then held up one of his belts and asked, "Do you know how to use this kind of belt?"

"Yes," she groaned, rolling her eyes and he only tossed the belt to her and headed for the door.

"Get changed," he ordered and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He headed down the stairs and grabbed the bag of her clothes and hurried to the back to throw it in the dumpster. Those clothes weren't fit for anyone. He couldn't believe some of the blouses and skirts…more accurately lack thereof…he'd seen in that case. Couldn't have her running around in practically nothing, for the Plummer kids sake's and for her _own_.

Shane walked back into the house and stood at the bottom step of the stairs to shout, "Hurry up, Lynch!"

He walked to the door and grabbed his jacket and the keys to the mini van then pulled on his jacket and stuffed the keys in the pocket. He tried to think of what her name was. He only knew her last name, but he couldn't remember her first name. He shrugged when he couldn't think of it and tapped an impatient foot when she still didn't come down.

"Lynch! Hurry up! I don't have all day!" he boomed from his place. He finally heard her footsteps slowly heading down the stairs. He slouched and gave her a displeased look when he saw her come down.

She'd pulled pants up just enough to be make-shift hip huggers, the belt was too loose and she'd tucked the pant legs into her tall leather boots she'd arrived in. Not only that, but she'd pulled the white shirt into a knot in the back so that it showed her mid-drift.

"Kay," she shrugged cutely as she leaned on the railing. "Let's go!"

"No," he said, flatly and headed toward her. She faced him as he stood in front of her on the bottom step and she stood on the second-to-last step. He bent down and grabbed one of her pant legs to yank it up then down over the boots.

"Hey!" she shouted, trying to move away, but he grabbed one of her ankles and she fell back onto her rear to sit on a higher step as Shane yanked the other pant leg over her boot. "The whole point of that is so that I can show off my awesome boots, Lieutenant Oblivious!"

"Too bad!" he shot back and grabbed her arms to stand her up as she stared at him in disbelief.

"'Too bad'?" she repeated. "Are you kidding me?!"

He didn't respond as he grabbed hold of the waistband on her pants and yanked them up past her belly button then pulled the military belt tighter until it was securely holding the pants at her waist. She watched him do all of this with wide eyes and he reached for the knot in the shirt, untied it and pulled it down to cover her stomach.

"Dude, you don't _seriously_ expect me to go out looking like _this_?!" she hoped with wide eyes and he shot his gaze to hers.

"You will _not_ call me 'Dude'," he ordered. "As your superior officer, you will address me as 'Sir'."

Joyce's face darkened and Shane was slightly taken aback by it, but it didn't show on his face.

"I'm not a soldier or officer whatever you call it," she started, through gritted teeth. "And you're not my father. My dad disciplined me because my mom said she couldn't, and now she's left me here with _you_, thinking she can whip me into shape because _she_ couldn't do it herself. Just to be clear, I do the things I do because I _want_ to. Dad's dying has nothing to do with it. I know that's what my mother thinks, and I know that's what _you_ think, too. Don't try to figure me out…_Sir_!"

She shoved past him on the steps and headed for the door and Shane watched as she stood at semi-attention next to the door. He was a bit surprised at how militant her stance was.

"Are we going, or what?!" she snapped as he only stared at her for a moment then he turned to the door and they walked out to the mini van, Shane leading the way.

"I cannot _believe_ my mother has left me with _you_ while she's gone," she grumbled as they got in and they both pulled on their seatbelts then she slumped in her seat. "I didn't even get anything to eat before we left."

Shane glanced over at her and felt a twinge of guilt. With what Rose had told him of her, and what he was witnessing herself, she deserved what was coming---Shane Wolfe's Personal Boot Camp---but he couldn't help but feel bad that it was happening this way. He decided, against his better judgment and most likely against Rose's wishes, that he'd try to make it up to her a little.

"We'll stop and get something to eat on the way," he said and Joyce looked up at him with wide eyes as he started the van. Her eyes narrowed to a glare and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Don't try to make for mom leaving me with you, it won't work," she spat and turned to stare out the window. There was no scenery but she didn't want to look at him.

"If you're hungry, you should eat," Shane replied, simply. "Starving you is no way to discipline you."

"Whatever," she shrugged and as he pulled out of the drive way she glanced at him a few times before she muttered, "Thanks."

Shane didn't reply. He was sure she didn't want him to hear it by the way she'd said so softly, but he had, and he couldn't help the smirk that flicked over his lips but it disappeared as soon as it had appeared. He told himself not to rub it in, that'll just make it worse, but he appreciated her thanks.

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**A/N:** well? how's it so far? reviews?


	2. Surplus

**A/N:** i couldn't resist. this is where i think Shane Wolfe would shop.

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Chapter 2: Surplus

Joyce finished off her burger and slurped at her soda as Shane drove and she shook her soda to make sure it was all gone before setting it in the bag on the floor. She looked out the window as buildings passed and couldn't help but curse her mother silently for leaving her with this guy she didn't know, and didn't care to know. Whatever attitude her mother said she had, it wasn't going to go away by leaving her with this guy, even if he was kind of hot.

"_God, do I actually think that?!_" she asked herself. She glanced over at him and couldn't deny that she did. She supposed it was the shoulders and arms…his whole build actually. She'd never really liked muscle bound guys, but he had just the right amount of muscle to make him attractive to her.

"_Stop it, Joe_," she told herself and shook her head a bit. "_You're supposed to hate him_."

"Here it is," Shane suddenly said and she jumped as she looked at him with wide eyes. He was turning the mini van and she looked out the window. What she saw made her eyes widen in horror.

"No," she said, shaking her head and pushing into her seat to get away from the window. "No! No! I don't shop at surplus stores!" She whirled around to stare at him, but he didn't look at her. "I thought we were going to the _mall_! You can't expect me to buy anything here, do you?!"

"Of course not," Shane replied parking the van and Joyce let out a sigh of relief. "_You_ won't be buying anything. _I'm_ going to buy your clothes for you."

Joyce shot a look of wide eyed disbelief as he got out and walked around the front of the van. She growled at him as he opened her door and she hissed when he moved to grab the bag of garage from her lunch. Shane jerked back and frowned at her in complete confusion.

"What are you, a cat?" he wondered and grabbed the bag as Joyce unbuckled her belt.

"Yes!" she shot back, shoving him back as she got out of the van. "You best be careful, my claws are sharp! So are my teeth!"

"Guess we gotta get those claws trimmed and those teeth filed," he couldn't help but smirk. Joyce glared at him and slammed her door shut then crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.

"I'm out of the van, but I am _not_ going into that surplus store," she reported and Shane rolled his eyes. He grabbed her wrist with his free hand and started toward the store and she struggled against him.

"Hey! I told you I'm not going in there! I wouldn't be caught dead in there!"

"Knock it off," Shane ordered, firmly as he still dragged her through the parking lot and she eventually did but she stopped when they reached the door. Shane looked at her as she crossed her arms in a huff when he let go of her arm.

"I don't wanna go in there," she repeated. "It was the _one_ thing I ever requested from my mother, and she never took me to these places. I don't even wanna _see_ what's in there."

"Listen, you're mother isn't taking you in here, _I_ am. Just suck it up and get your butt in there!" Shane grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the door behind him. He let go of her arm and she stopped dead at the entrance, staring wide eyes at what was inside.

Replicas of planes hung from the ceiling, dummies had camos on and military uniforms. She saw racks of hats and belts and things she'd seen her mom use, but didn't know what they were. She stepped further in, looking around as Shane headed for the counter to talk to the clerk behind it. Joyce turned to the glass counter and slowly stepped up next to him to see what was inside. Knives and military knick-knacks she'd also seen her mother use.

"Glad I brought you here?" he joked, seeing her interest and awe in everything around her. She ignored him and looked up at the clerk, pointing at a huge hunting knife beneath the glass.

"Does this come in pink?" she asked cutely and the clerk glanced at Shane for permission to answer.

"Very funny," Shane replied, unamused and shook his head to the clerk as he took her wrist in his huge hand and dragged her through the store as she looked around with wide eyes. She found herself regretting demanding never to come into one of these stores, but she was _not_ about to _wear_ anything from this place, no matter how interesting it looked.

Shane stopped at a wall with shelves of neatly folded white shirts and Joyce was snapped from her thoughts and looked at him. There were sizes written in black marker under the shirts and Shane kept looking at her then looking back at the shelves. Not too far away, she noticed, were shelves of gray shirts and more shelves with black shirts.

"Here we go," Shane mumbled to himself and Joyce turned her attention to him again. He pulled a handful of white shirts from a shelf that read "Large" underneath the stack and plopped them in her hands.

"No!" she snapped when he walked toward the shelves of gray shirts. "I'm not dressing like you! I don't wanna look like a GI Jane!"

"You won't," he replied, pulling a few gray shirts from the shelf. "GIs aren't Navy."

Joyce blinked as he placed the gray shirts in her hands and growled angrily at him as he backed up to see the bottom shelves. She suddenly noticed there were rows of beige cargo pants below the shirts and rolled her eyes with a sigh as she turned to face him. He only scanned through the sizes on the shelves.

"Look, if you want me to dress differently, fine," she said. "But don't make me go around in this stuff! I look like an idiot!"

"You won't, once you're wearing the right size of clothes," Shane replied, kneeling down to pull several pairs of pants from the shelf marked "Large" and Joyce stuck her tongue out at him. He stood and placed the pants in her hands on top of the shirts she was still holding. He headed off in another direction and Joyce sighed as she followed him.

"You didn't this to the Plummer kids, did you?" she wondered, sarcastically.

"You're a special case," he replied, stopping at a rack with beige military belts, grabbed a couple of smaller sized ones then headed in another direction and stopped again in a section in the store with a wall lined with black leather, tall, military boots of all sizes. "You're enrolled in Shane Wolfe's Boot Camp. You need all the necessaries to survive it." He turned to face her as she gave him an unamused look and asked, "What's your shoe size?"

"What? You can't tell by looking at me?" she asked, mockingly.

Shane sighed as he knelt down and she had no time to react when he gripped her ankle and lifted her foot to see the size on her high heeled shoe. She let out a startled cry and gripped a stand filled with shoes to keep herself from falling back. Shane stood again, letting go of her foot and turned back to the wall of boots.

"Ok, eight and a half," he thought aloud and Joyce sighed again, this time in boredom. Shane found a pair of boots her size and pulled them from the wall to place them on one of the benches in the section. Joyce glanced at boots then looked back at Shane.

"Try 'em on," he ordered, grabbing a set of black socks that looked her size from a small rack next to a shelf of boots and tossing them next to the shoes. "See how they fit."

"I don't wear _anything_ that doesn't have a heel," Joyce retorted. "I _especially_ don't wear combat boots."

"Good, you know what they are," Shane shot back and took the clothes from her hands with one hand and grabbed her arm to sit her down on the bench next to the shoes. "Try them on, now."

Joyce exhaled sharply and yanked her arm out of his grip to bend over and pull her shoes off. Shane stood patiently as she pulled off both her shoes and pulled a pair of socks from the pack, pulled on the socks then struggled to pull on the combats. She yanked at them to pull them on, smacking herself a few times when her fingers slipped then she fumbled with the laces, burning her fingers trying to pull them tight enough.

"Looks you still have a lot to learn if you can't tie shoes," Shane teased and she glared up at him.

"I told you, I don't wear these…_ever_!" she snapped and Shane rolled his eyes. He placed the clothes on the bench as she turned back to trying to lace her boot tight enough and he knelt down in front of her. She jumped with a start when he smacked her hands away and began tying her shoes on for her.

"This is the only time I'm doing this for you," he reported and Joyce only nodded. After she pulled on the other boot and he laced it for her he stood and ordered, "At attention."

"Why don't you just say 'Stand up'?" she retorted, standing. Shane backed up and looked at her feet.

"They fit ok?" he asked and she shrugged then he ordered, "About face."

Joyce let out a long sigh and turned.

"March."

She gave him a sneer of disbelief and he only repeated the order. She growled low in her throat and walked toward the far wall.

"That march needs some work," he commented and Joyce rolled her eyes as she turned and headed back to him.

"They fit fine," she snapped and he nodded.

"Alright, grab your shoes and clothes so we can pay for them and go," he ordered and headed back to the front of the store.

"Fine, but can we at least stop at a mall so I can get regular people clothes?" she hoped, grabbing her boots and clothes and running after him.

"We got everything you'll need for the next week or so," Shane replied, leading the way to the counter. "You'll have to earn a shopping spree."

Joyce sneered and rolled her eyes then caught a glimpse of an old cockpit of a plane sitting against a wall. She stopped dead as she stared at it then turned on her heel and slowly walked toward it. She couldn't understand why she found it so intriguing, but she didn't care at the moment. She stopped at the edge and looked around to see if anyone was watching then sat herself in the pilot's seat and stared out the stained, dusty window, her clothes in her lap.

She suddenly theorized that the reason she was so interested was because the military was in her blood. Both her parents were military, not to mention her grandfather on her dad's side, and her mom's grandfather. Her mom's dad almost got into it, but decided to go to law school. It seemed almost destined that she would get into it too, but her mother had told her a long time ago, if she didn't want to, she didn't have to. Joyce didn't want to, but she couldn't deny the intrigue of the whole thing. Her smile was brilliant as she sat in that cockpit.

"_If I __wanted__ to go into the military_," she thought. "_It would be the Air Force. Water kinda scares me_."

"Enjoying yourself?"

Joyce scrambled to her feet, dropping the things in her lap in the process and she cursed under her breath as she knelt down to pick them up. Shane knelt down in front of her to help and she glanced at him angrily.

"Do you have to be so sneaky?" she snapped, pulling a bundle of shirts into her arms.

"It's the training," he shrugged, folding a pair of pants before handing them to her and taking the shirts to fold them one at a time. He smirked and leaned toward her to murmur, "I saw that?"

Joyce looked at him as he leaned out and frowned in confusion as she asked, "Saw what?"

"You smiled," he said, taking another shirt to fold it perfectly. Joyce rolled her eyes and shifted her weight completely onto one of her feet.

"No I didn't," she lied with a sneer as he took another shirt.

"Alright, you didn't," he replied and didn't say anything more as he folded the last shirt and handed it to her, but he knew what he saw. He was sure he would break her of her undesirable ways yet.

They both headed back to the counter to pay for her new wardrobe and she looked back at the knife she'd seen earlier. It intrigued her, as the old cockpit had. She rolled her eyes at herself.

"_Not even an hour with this guy and I'm going where I __didn't__ wanna go: GI Jane_," she complained silently. She watched as Shane paid for the clothes and shoes then suddenly saw something she definitely wanted.

"Shane, I want that," she said, simply. No sarcasm, no anger and it wasn't really a demand. This tone was what made Shane snap his gaze to her in surprise.

"What?" he asked and Joyce looked up at him.

"I want that patch right there…" She pointed to something in the glass counter on the other side of Shane and he looked in that direction along with the clerk. It was a small pocket knife, tiny, in fact and Shane couldn't understand why she wanted it in the first place.

He turned back to her and asked, "Should we see if they have it in pink?"

"I'm not joking, Shane," she said in that simple tone again and Shane's playful smirk dropped as he stared at her. He nodded and turned to the clerk to request the knife's price. Not too expensive, he was glad to find out and he said he'd take it. The clerk pulled it out and didn't even question him about it. He knew Shane was ex-military and that he wouldn't let the girl hurt herself with it.

After he paid for it he handed her the small knife and she snatched it from him to look at it intently. She never took her eyes from it as they walked out of the store and into the parking lot toward the van. Shane kept glancing at her and she suddenly gave a small smile and tucked it into the pocket of the pants she was wearing.

Shane couldn't help but ask, "Why the knife?"

Joyce snapped her gaze up to him as they reached the van and asked, "What?"

"Why did you want that knife so badly?" he asked again, shutting the alarm to the van off and Joyce rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't understand," she replied, getting into the car and fastening her belt.

Shane walked over to the driver's side and got in then said, "I might."

"No, you wouldn't," she argued. He didn't start the car and she frowned in wonder at him a moment.

"Try me," he insisted and she rolled her eyes again with a sigh. She leaned an arm on the door and rested her chin on the backs of her fingers as Shane just watched her, examining her reactions.

"It's nothing I like to talk about," she replied. "Just something about my dad, if you _have_ to know. But like I said, I don't like to talk about it."

"Alright," Shane nodded and started the van. "You should know, if you need to talk about it---"

"I don't," Joyce cut in, irritably. "And if I _did_, I wouldn't talk about it with _you_."

"Fine," Shane shrugged and they said nothing as he pulled out of the parking lot and into the streets to drive back to the Plummer house. He knew she'd eventually open up. It was inevitable, really, but he had to be sure of something and asked, "You're not gonna hurt yourself with that, are you?"

"Do I _look_ suicidal to you?" she asked in a flabbergasted tone.

"Just making sure," he replied. "Don't take it personal."

"Oh," she chirped. "No, I'm not gonna hurt myself."

"Good," he nodded and Joyce glanced at him a few times before she knew she had to say it.

"Thanks for buying it for me," she mumbled. "I'll pay you back when I get my wallet from the house."

"Don't bother," he replied and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "That's the last gift you're getting for the rest of the time you're here, so enjoy it."

"Sir, yes Sir," she muttered sarcastically.

"That's better," he smirked and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Joyce leaned on her hand again and couldn't help smiling as she stared out the window. That store hadn't been as bad as she thought it would, and she hoped that after all this stupid discipline stuff that she could go there to at least look around a little longer. But she would _never_ admit it to Shane or her mother. That would just make everything worse.

"_Best keep that to yourself, Joe_," she told herself. "_And keep all your attractions to Shane to yourself, __definitely_."

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**A/N:** well, how was it? reviews?


	3. Irrational Fear

_**Chapter 3: Irrational Fear**_

"You threw my clothes out, didn't you?" Joyce wondered, not surprised, but irritated all the same. Shane didn't respond as she dragged her suitcase into the living and he headed up the stairs. She ran after him with her bag, pulling her new little knife and iPod from her pockets.

"Do you know how much money I spent on all those clothes?" she wondered then scoffed when he still didn't respond. "Of course you don't. You don't realize the value of designer duds."

"Hurry up and change, then meet me downstairs," he ordered, handing her the bag full of her clothes and she snatched it from him. She turned on her heel toward his room and he headed downstairs.

Closing the door behind her, Joyce tossed the bag onto the bed then her knife and iPod so she could change. As she began changing she couldn't help but sneer at the memory of Shane ruining her look before they'd gone to the store. Well, it was about to get worse. She went to the bag and pulled out one of the white shirts, a pair of pants and one of the belts and began dressing, leaving her boots on. She didn't feel like wrestling with those things again.

Joyce sighed once she pulled on her clothes and looked across the room to see a full length mirror and her reflection in it. She wanted so much to pull the pants to hip huggers and knot the shirt at least in the back, but she knew the reaction she'd get from Shane. She looked at the pile of clothes that were Shane's and decided she'd at least fold them and put them on his bed.

"He didn't _have_ to buy that knife for me," she muttered to herself, gathering the clothes. "It'll be a sort of thank you for it."

She didn't hear Shane open the door or see him appear in the doorway as she folded his pants then rolled his belt up to place everything in a neat pile. He couldn't help but smirk at the fact that she played tough but she ended up folding _his_ clothes instead of leaving them in a pile on the floor.

"Ok," she sighed to herself and grabbed her knife and iPod to shove them into her pockets then grabbed her bag of clothes. "Better get down there before he makes me drop and give him twenty." She turned and jumped with a start when she saw the very man she was grumbling about.

"Thanks for folding my clothes," he smirked. "Getting a head start on your chores, are we?"

"Whatever," she groaned and itched at her arm then pulled her sleeve up to eye the tattoo on her upper arm. "Oh, man! It's coming off!"

"What is that?" Shane demanded, pointing at the tattoo. Joyce glanced at it then looked back at him.

"What? You've never seen a tattoo before?" she retorted and he glared at her.

"You're gonna take that off," he ordered and she looked at him incredulously but he didn't let her say anything when he boomed, "Now!"

She jumped but didn't move and only placed a hand on her hip as she glared at him.

"It'll come off eventually," she retorted. "Just chill, ok?"

Shane growled in irritation and grabbed her wrist to drag her to the bathroom.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" she shrieked, struggling against him and dropping her bag of clothes. "It's coming off already! Just give it a few days!"

He didn't respond as they entered the bathroom and he shoved her to sit on the edge of the tub. She sat in a huff as he rummaged through a cabinet for alcohol and cotton balls then frowned when she heard some shuffling behind her. She turned to see what was shuffling in the toilet and heard a quack then saw a duck flapping its wings rapidly. Joyce's eyes went wide and she screamed as she scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room and all the way down the stairs to the family room. Shane frowned and saw her dash out of the room then looked at the duck.

"Oh, hey Gary," he smiled, cotton balls and alcohol in hand. He turned to the door and headed out down the stairs to the family room. He looked around and finally saw Joyce's frightened emerald eyes staring over the top of the couch at him.

"You didn't say anything about a duck," she shuddered from behind the couch. "What's it doing here?!"

"He's the family pet," Shane frowned in confused wonder. "His name is Gary."

"You didn't say anything about a duck!" she snapped and Shane's frown deepened as he headed around to sit with her on the couch.

"What difference does it make?" he wondered, grabbing the wrist of the arm with the tattoo in one hand, the bottle of alcohol in the other. Realization dawned on him and he looked up at her as she took the cotton balls into her lap.

"You're afraid of ducks," he stated and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"I'm not _'afraid'_ of them," she lied, pulling out a cotton ball and shoving it in his hand. "I don't _like_ them."

"Why not?" he wondered, putting some alcohol on the cotton ball and dabbing it on her arm.

"What do _you_ care?" she snapped, yanking her arm away and grabbing the cotton ball to take off her tattoo herself. "Just keep it away from me and we won't have a problem."

"The duck goes where the duck wants to go," Shane replied. "You'll just have to keep _yourself_ away from it."

"I was right, you _don't_ care," she thought aloud, rubbing off the remains of the tattoo.

"I care," he corrected, and stood from the couch to head toward the kitchen, but Joyce didn't notice. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't care."

Joyce continued rubbing at her tattoo and heard water run then footsteps coming back to her. She glanced up to see Shane sit next to her again with a wet cloth and when she finally finished rubbing the tattoo away he slapped her hand away and placed it on her arm. She cried out with a start when the cool cloth touched her heated skin and looked at him with wide eyes filled with question.

"See?" he smirked. "I care."

"Whatever," she scoffed and held the cloth on her arm as he glared at her.

"I've been going easy on you all day," he reminded her and her eyes widened in disbelief.

"You call this _easy_?!" she wondered if she'd heard right. "You put this stupid bracelet on me…!" She thrust her wrist with the tracking device on it into his face. "You threw out my clothes, made me get new, stupid, military clothes and you're not gonna do anything about the duck! To top it off, my mom is leaving me here for undetermined amount of time, and I _don't_ _like_ _you_!"

"Imagine how hurt I am," he replied sarcastically as he stood and stared her down. "Shane Wolfe's Boot Camp officially starts _now_! You'll start by cleaning this place spotless. No highway option."

"W-What do you mean 'spotless'?" she chuckled nervously.

Shane raised an eyebrow and replied, "What do _you_ think I mean?"

"Don't make me clean!" she pleaded. "I _hate_ cleaning!"

"Too bad," he replied and headed for the kitchen again. Joyce's jaw went slack as she stared at his back as he left. She suddenly clapped her mouth shut and scoffed as she pulled the damp cloth from her arm and tossed it onto the coffee table then placed her feet on the table and leaned back on the couch. She pulled her iPod out, shoved the earphones in her ears and raised her arms to cradle her head in her hands.

Shane walked by, but she didn't notice as he glanced at her incredulously but said nothing. He headed up the stairs while Joyce tapped her toes to the beat of her music and bobbed her head he came back a few short moments later, Gary the duck in his hands, quaking slightly.

Shane moved silently and whispered to Gary to keep quiet as they reached the couch. He placed the duck next to Joyce a few inches away on the head of the couch and Gary began waddling with a bit of difficulty toward her as she continued to bob her head t the music, her eyes closed to savor it.

When Gary got close enough to her, he nipped at her elbow and she jumped with a start as she mouthed "Ow" then looked in Gary's direction. She screamed and flew from the couch to run toward the stairs but Shane grabbed her arm mid-run. Gary flew from the couch and began waddling around to follow Joyce. She let out another scream and grabbed Shane's arm to shove him at the duck.

"Get it away!" she shouted, hiding behind him as Gary only waddled and quacked around Shane's feet and toward Joyce. She screamed once more and jumped onto Shane's back when Gary got too close. "Get it away! Get it away!"

"Get off of me!" Shane shouted, set off balance by her sudden action. He spun around trying to knock her off but her arms were tightly around his neck. He gripped her wrists that she'd locked around his neck and flipped her off of his back and onto her back on the couch as he stood at the side of the couch.

"Hey!" Joyce shouted, turning onto her stomach on the couch to stare at him angrily. She yanked the earphones from her ears and sat up to shove them in her pocket. "What the hell was that?!"

"Watch your mouth!" Shane roared back at her. "And don't ever do that again! You're no child, so quit acting like it!"

"_You_ put the duck next to me!" she reminded him, standing. "If anything _you're_ the child!"

"Get cleaning," Shane ordered, ignoring her comment. He approached her as she started fiddling with her iPod again and snatched it from her.

"Hey!" she shouted, going after him to get it back but he held it up in the air and pushed her back by her shoulder.

"This will only distract you," he explained. "You're not here for fun."

"It won't distract me, I promise," she argued. "It'll help me concentrate, honestly. It's like white noise. Please?"

Shane searched her eyes and expression, looking for the truth. He'd seen Zoe doing other things while she was listening to her iPod, and she'd end up getting a lot of things done. He couldn't understand it, but this generation was so different from his military lifestyle. He guessed it wouldn't hurt if he gave it back. If she didn't do what he ordered her to do he'd take it away again.

He handed her iPod back to her and her face lit up, genuinely when he did. She glanced up at him as she shoved the ear-buds in her ears and started sifting through her music on her iPod.

"Thanks," she muttered then flipped some of her hair from her gaze as she looked back at him. "My mom took it away from my earlier, but she doesn't understand that I really _need_ my music. I wouldn't be able to work without it."

"If she took it from you, how'd you get it back?" Shane wondered with a frown and Joyce gave a sly smirk.

"I'm also a very good pick-pocket," she replied proudly. Shane glared at her and went to take the iPod back but she quickly recoiled. "Wait! Give me a chance to show you I can work with it! Please?"

"You shouldn't be proud about being a pick-pocket thief!" he snapped.

"I'm no thief!" she snapped back. "I only steal stuff _back_ that mom has taken from _me_! How can I steal what's mine?!"

"You still shouldn't be proud of it," he repeated. "No more of that either!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she groaned, waving him off and placing her hands on her hips. "Where do you want me to start?"

"The kitchen," Shane instructed. "Take out the trash, sweep and mop the floor, clean the counter, wash the dishes---"

"Yes, _Sir_, I know what I have to do to clean the kitchen," Joyce interrupted and scoffed as she headed for the kitchen. Shane sighed tiredly and turned to look at Gary as he quaked and waddled toward him. He glanced toward the kitchen and picked up the duck carefully.

"Sorry, Gary," he said, heading toward the bathroom and placing the duck in the bathtub again. "You'll have to stay here for a while if I want her to get anything done. You can go out in the pool later."

Gary quaked in response and Shane smiled before leaving and shutting the door on his way out. He hurried down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen again. As he rounded the corner he saw Joyce dancing to her iPod and cocked his head at her slightly. She was doing the dishes and dancing in place but she was moving around an awful lot. Zoe did the same thing, but this girl was all over the place. Maybe it was the type of music she was listening to?

He shook his thoughts away. He had come in here to tell her something important…about the duck.

"Hey," he called, but she only continued dancing and washing the dishes. He sighed and walked toward her to tap her on the shoulder. She jumped with a start and turned to him, pulling an ear-bud from one of her ears as she stared wide questioning eyes at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Tell me when you're gonna go to the bathroom," he said and she turned to face him completely.

"Monitoring my bathroom time?" she wondered sarcastically and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"The duck is in the bathroom," he replied simply and watched in slight amusement when her eyes widened and her sarcastic smirk dropped.

"Oh," she said in a low voice as she straightened. "O-Ok then. I'll tell you if I need to…ya know." She turned back to the dishes and Shane let out a chuckle making her turn and glare at him but he headed down the hall.

"Dinner will be at nineteen hundred hours," he called and Joyce rolled her eyes, shoving the ear-bud back in to listen to her iPod. She couldn't help but smile at seeing him cross his arms over his chest…the way his biceps flexed when he did it. She shook her head violently.

"_Stop it!_" she shouted at herself silently. "_You can't do that! Like he'd go for you, anyway, you delinquent!_" She couldn't help but smile again. "_At least he cared enough to lock the duck away somewhere_." She shivered in disgust. "_Nasty thing_."

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**A/N:** well, i figured she should have a really weird irrational fear cause she thinks she's so bad ass. reviews?


	4. Talk of Training

_**Chapter 4: Talk of Training**_

Joyce sighed as she sat at the dinner table, pulling her earphones from her ears and leaning on the table surface. Shane stood behind the counter and frowned as he watched her head lower to the table top and he picked up two brown bags from the counter then walked toward her.

She'd cleaned that house from top to bottom, like Shane had told her and she had forgotten to tell him she was going into the bathroom for something. She had just come out of hiding in his room so he could put Gary outside where he could swim around in the pool. Shane would have her clean the filter of feathers later.

He sat in front of her and set a bag in front of her, making her jerk her head up. She looked at the bag with a frown and picked it up to examine it then up at him in question.

"Better enjoy that," he said, opening his own bag. "These are the last ones."

"Um, why don't you just order a pizza or something?" Joyce suggested. "I'm not eating this military issued crap."

"I've survived months on this stuff," Shane argued. "And don't say 'crap'."

Joyce leaned toward him with a sly smile and murmured, "Crap."

Shane shook his head but said nothing as he stood and headed back toward the kitchen. Joyce smiled in assumed triumph and sat back in her chair, flicking the bag away from her on the table. Shane rounded up behind her, hooked his foot around one of the legs of the chair and pulled it out from under her, fast.

She let out a startled cry as she felt herself fall and hit the floor. She sent a glare up to him as he stared down at her emotionlessly.

"Give me twenty," he ordered and her eyes widened.

"No!" she squeaked. Shane raised an eyebrow at her as she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

"Twenty push-ups," he repeated. "Now!"

"Or what?" Joyce challenged. He said nothing as he turned to the door leading to the backyard and he opened it to still his head out.

"Gary!" he called and Joyce's eyes widened.

"Alright! I'll do it! Look! I'm doing it!"

Shane turned back to look at her and she started doing push-ups, but she was on her knees with her ankles locked in the air.

"The _real_ way, Lynch," he snapped and she stopped looked at him with a glare. He threatened to go back to the door and she instantly shifted her weight from her knees to her feet and started, with difficultly, to do push-ups. Shane shut the door completely and walked toward her as she continued to struggle through the push-ups.

"Count 'em!" he ordered.

"Seven…" she continued in a shuddered voice as she pushed up. "Eight…"

"Louder!"

"Nine! Ten!"

"Alright, get up," he said, seeing her pitiful struggle to get through ten. She sighed in relief and stood up as Shane shook his head in shame. "You don't have any muscle, do you?"

"I can take care of myself, if that's what you mean," Joyce replied, defensively.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he retorted. "You couldn't even get through _five_ push-ups smoothly, let alone the ten you finished."

"It's not all about muscle, ya know?" she informed him, her hands on her hips. "It's about speed, too. And I've got _that_."

"I'm not talking about fighting," he said again. "I'm talking about general strength. You should be able to get through ten push-ups like they're nothing."

"Whatever," she groaned and went to pull her chair back to sit but he kicked it away. "What?!"

"You're gonna be doing a lot more than cleaning while you're with me," he said. "When you're finished eating we're gonna start training to build those non-existent muscles."

"I took karate," she reported. "I learned how to use my opponent's weight against them."

"Good for you," Shane nodded, sarcastically. "When the Plummers come back, ask the kids about a lesson I taught them in wrestling at the school with a jerk teacher as the subject."

"Yeah, I know, my mom said you were the wrestling coach at their school," she sneered, waving him off. "You're a muscle head, so of _course_ you ended up as the coach. I don't need any of that. Wrestling is not my thing."

"Not wrestling," Shane corrected. "Training. That covers a _lot_ of fields of fighting and exercise."

"Whatever," she shrugged. "Just don't take unwanted liberties with your hands with this training, kay?"

Shane rolled his eyes at her as she pulled her chair back to the table and he walked to sit at his seat as well. She picked at her bag before she finally pulled it toward her and opened it as Shane sat and opened his bag. There was silence between them before Joyce decided to break it.

"So, when _are_ the Plummers coming back?" she wondered, pulling a bag smaller bag from the bag and examining it.

"Sunday," Shane replied, dumping his bag out of the table. "Today's Wednesday."

"I know what day it is," she retorted, deciding to follow his lead and dump her own bag onto the table. "Exactly how many of the Plummers are there?"

"Mrs. Plummer, Zoe, Seth, Lulu, Peter and Tyler," Shane replied, sifting through the bags, whether hers or his as she watched.

"In that order?" she wondered sarcastically and he glanced at her, unamused. Joyce smirked and leaned forward. "Do you make them eat this cr-stuff?"

"I _did_," he replied. "I don't anymore."

"Boy, you're nicer to those kids than you are to _me_," she sneered and sat back, crossing her arms again.

"My job was to _protect_ those kids," he reminded her. "Right now, my job is to whip _you_ into shape."

"And try to figure out why I'm acting out, right?" she retorted and he couldn't help it when his eyes went wide as he looked up at her. "As I thought. Mom wants you to figure out why I am the way I am, and even though I told you it's got nothing to do with my father, you're not convinced, right? Well, as I told you earlier, don't try to figure me out. It'll do you no good. It won't do _me_ any good either."

She turned to the bags on the table and noticed one she might like.

"Mom used to have these," she said, sitting back and fiddling to open the package. "Should I still stay away from the cheese?"

Shane only nodded, turning back to his own package. After eating what they wanted, Joyce glanced at the clock on the wall and stretched as Shane gathered the trash and dumped it.

"Now go clean the bathrooms while the duck is outside," he ordered and she whipped her head around to stare wide eyes at him.

"I just spent all day cleaning this house!" she reminded him. "Why can't _you_ do it?!"

"Because _I_ don't need the attitude adjustment!" he barked back. "Get in there and clean."

"Fine!" she snapped and stood to head for the stairs to get to the bathroom.

"Hey!" he called, bringing her back to glare at him.

"What?!" she snapped.

"After you do that, you can do what you want, but lights out at twenty-one hundred, sharp," he ordered.

"I can stay up late and get up early," she said, smugly. "It's no problem."

"I'll be getting you up at oh-four hundred hours," Shane told her. "You should get as much sleep as you can. Lights out at twenty-one hundred."

Joyce made a noise and headed back down the hall. Shane shook his head and headed outside to hang out with Gary for a while. Even ducks needed company. He walked toward the pool where Gary was swimming and sat in one of the pool chairs.

"She's a handful," he muttered to himself and Gary quaked as if in agreement and flew up out of the pool to waddle to Shane.

"I'm not sure how Rose ended up with such a disrespectful little brat," he thought out loud. "She's such a nice woman. How could her daughter end up like _that_?"

He sighed as Gary only shook access water from his feathers and waddled closer. Shane smirked and patted the duck on the head then stroked his back once in thought. Not wanting to sit idle anymore, he stood and headed back inside, leaving the door open in case Gary wanted to come back in. Joyce would just have to deal with the duck being inside.

Heading for the living room he sat on the couch and opened his laptop sitting on the coffee table. He started typing up a report on Joyce's activities and progress, if any, to email to her mother. It wasn't much, but he included everything they had done that day. He had a feeling tomorrow would be more productive.

As he continued typing, he noticed Gary waddle toward the stairs and thought nothing of it. Gary waddled up the stairs and as he typed up the part when they came home and she screamed when she saw the duck, he froze and looked around at the stairs. Gary was gone.

"Oh no," he breathed and shot up to head up the stairs but it was too late. There was a scream and pounding footsteps running down the stairs. He headed for the bottom step and saw Joyce hurrying down the stairs and without thinking she threw herself at him as Gary waddled around the top step.

"That thing is a ninja duck!" she snapped and suddenly realized that her arms were around his neck while his arms were around her waist. She looked up at him and shoved away quickly, but her heart was pounding in her chest as she stepped up onto the step behind her.

"I thought you said it was clear!" she panted from running.

"It was," Shane replied. "He decided to come in for a while. I didn't know he'd go straight to you."

"Well, I can't do the bathroom now!" she excused and tried to walk past him but he grabbed her arm and started pulling he up the stairs. "Hey! Don't take me back to that thing! Stop it! Where's your compassion?!"

She shrieked when she saw Gary and when Shane let go of her arm she ducked behind him, peeking over her shoulder at the bird. He headed for the bathroom and she stepped inside quickly to escape Gary and he grabbed the doorknob to the bathroom door.

"Clean with the door closed," he suggested. "Run the fan to circulate the air so you don't pass out from the bleach smell and any other chemicals you'll use."

"Fine, but I can't come when you call," she retorted.

"Don't worry," he smirked. "If you're not out by twenty-one hundred, _I'll_ come for _you_." He shut the door and Joyce stuck her tongue out at it then turned back to what she had started doing, flipping on the fan.

She glanced at the door, knowing the duck was on the other side of it somewhere then shook her thoughts away as she turned up the music on her iPod. She couldn't help but dwell on her sudden panic when she had thrown herself at Shane. Her heart had pounded so hard she thought she'd faint, and she was _sure_ she had blushed. She looked in the mirror to see if she had, but apparently not. If anything her face looked a bit pale. Sighing she turned to start cleaning and tried not to think of Shane Wolfe and his strong arms wrapped around her for that split second.

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Shane let out a long sigh as he sank back into the couch and leaned over to type up his report. His fingers were slippery against the keys and he frowned in wonder as he pulled his hands away and looked at them. They were sweaty. Frowning deeper he tried to figure out when it had happened, then thought back to when Joyce had thrown herself at him.

He growled at himself, remembering his reaction. Clammy hands, his knees had shaken only slightly, but enough and his heart had skipped a beat. This couldn't be happening. She was too young, and a pain in the butt to top it off. He _couldn't_ be attracted to her. He couldn't _let_ himself be attracted to her. They'd only known each other a day!

Of course, she _was_ pretty. Any man would be stupid if he didn't admit that, but she was his friend's daughter, he couldn't think of her that way. Sighing again he rubbed his hands on his pants and began typing up the rest of his report then sent it to Rose. He leaned back on the couch and ran a hand over his head and face. Now he couldn't get her out of his head.

He remembered this feeling when he'd met Claire. His hands had been drenched when he walked out of that office for the first time after meeting her. He sneered when he remembered how that had ended. Working together had been a mistake. It had been fun for a while, but it had fallen apart quickly. They ended up bringing their work problems into their relationship and it ha resulted in many fights. Pretty soon, Claire couldn't take it anymore, and neither could he, but he let her break it off. He was never good with break ups.

That had been last year, and he was still working at the school, the two of them friends and colleagues. It worked. He was used to getting orders, and she was used to giving them. If it had been the Navy, she would be his superior officer anyway, so he didn't mind it at all.

Now, he was having déjà vu with Joyce. The clammy hands and all, but it wasn't as intense. Maybe that was a good thing, he guessed. At least it wasn't an intense feeling. He could get over it quickly, and he hoped he would. He was sure Rose wouldn't be thrilled if he fell for her daughter, now matter how much she trusted him to give her an attitude adjustment.


	5. Dear Diary

**A/N:** i never really worry whether or not my characters turn out to be Mary-Sues, but i'm glad Joyce isn't. lol! here's chappie 5, enjoy! (i like calling em chappie's now...lol!)

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Chapter 5: Dear Diary...

Joyce flopped onto the couch with a long sigh that ended up coming out in a raspberry. She glanced around for the remote to the TV and found it on the coffee table. She grabbed it and flipped the TV on, but as soon as she did, Shane came up and flipped it off.

"Hey!" she shrieked, sitting up fully. "I was gonna watch that!"

"No TV," he replied, simply. "Your mother's orders, and I agree with her. TV rots the brain."

"Well, then, what do you suppose _I_ should do with _my_ time?" Joyce wondered, sarcastically.

"Write," he shrugged, walking back toward the stairs. "You have a diary, I'm sure."

Joyce's eyes went round when he said that and she stared at him going up the stairs. How had he known she kept a diary?! He must have gone through her stuff! She quickly shook that thought from her head. He wasn't that kind of guy, she quickly realized and looked at her suitcase on the floor. She moved the bag of her new clothes and rummaged through the case for her diary. She pulled out a notebook with red and black stripes running down its length and different stickers on it and a pen attached to its spine.

"Well, I have _plenty_ of stuff to write about today," she muttered and opened up to an empty page.

_Dear Diary,_

_Here I am at an unfamiliar house, wearing tacky military garb and living for who knows how long with Lieutenant Spaz himself. Well, his __real__ name is Shane Wolfe, and he's actually an ex-S.E.A.L. Mom has placed me in his care because she thinks I need an "attitude adjustment." Whatever!_

_Today was __horrible__! First, he made me get new clothes (mostly military stuff mentioned earlier) and said I couldn't wear my awesome clothes anymore because they make me look like a slut. Such a jerk! Then he made me take off my fake tattoo and I found out there's a duck here! A duck! I can't believe I'm living in the same house with a duck!_

_Anyway, after that he made me clean the house and at dinner he made me eat that boxed stuff mom gets sometimes when she goes on missions, or whatever. Then I had to clean the bathroom, and now he just told me I can't watch TV. I can't believe this is how I'm gonna spend my life until mom gets me outta here! This is so unfair!_

_And get this, when I met the guy, he tells me, 'You're doing things __my__ way…no highway option.' How lame is that?! And instead of saying what time it __actually__ is, he gives me military time. Even mom doesn't do that!_

_He took me into a surplus store today, a place I thought I wouldn't even be caught dead in. Aside from the stupid clothes, it was actually kind of cool. He bought me a knife like dad's…only 'cause I made him. Then he asked me if I was gonna hurt myself with it. Can't say I blame him for asking that, but I kinda got upset about it anyway._

_He's been trying to figure me out, even if he doesn't know I realize it, I __know__ he is. I wish he'd just leave it alone. I'm not gonna change, no matter what he makes me do. Both him and mom think it's got something to do with dad's death but they are __totally__ wrong. I've made my peace with it. Talking about it __again__ won't make it any better. It won't bring him back...even it he __wasn't__ around most of the time anyway._

_Anyway, I can't say Shane's all __that__ bad. He __is__ kinda cute...well, let me just admit it, he's hot. Even if he __is__ a pain in the ass, he's still nice to look at. But, he'll never know that I think that. Hm, actually, maybe I __should__ tell him. Then, he'll get all uncomfortable around me and just send me back home!_

_Nah, I'll just leave it alone. It's kinda nice having something as fine as him to look at. Now I understand why my mom would never let me meet any of her Navy buddies...they all probably look like him. He's got the big shoulders and the huge muscles...today I caught myself staring (and maybe drooling) just a little. But, he __is__ a pain in the ass._

_Well, I'd better wrap this up. He's probably gonna come back down stairs and check up on me. Like I said, Lieutenant Spaz. Oh! And he wants to 'train' me. Like exercise and all that. I told him I took karate, and he still thinks I need it. Apparently I don't do push-ups well enough for him. He ticks me off. He told me I had to deal with the duck being here. How can the Plummers have a pet __duck__?! It's insanity!_

_That's the name of the family that lives here, by the way. They're the reason Shane is no longer a S.A.E.L. He told me their names. I can't remember, I think it was Zoe, Seth, Lulu, Peter and...wait for it...it's in there. Tyler! That's what it was. And of course there's the Mrs. Plummer. Widow. I feel for the kids. I know what that feels like, of course._

_Better wrap this up now. Well, what have we learned today...?_

Joyce read over the entry and smirked before writing in…

_Shane is Lieutenant Spaz._

Grinning, she closed the journal and sat back on the couch with a sigh. That felt good to let loose in her diary. She couldn't talk like that to her mom, and _certainly_ not to "Lieutenant Spaz." She sighed and struggled to stand then stretched.

"Better get cleaned up and changed," she told herself. She leaned toward her suitcase again and pulled out her toiletries bag and her pajamas then headed for the stairs. She looked around and noticed Shane's door closed, making her figure he was _in_ his room. She headed for the bathroom and opened the door only to find Shane in nothing but a towel…ready to open the door himself.

"_Oh, crap_," she thought but swallowed instead.

"I'm done in here," he assured her, quickly walking passed her and heading for his room. "You can use the towels on the rack. I'll get some blankets for you while you're in there."

"_I hope you'll get dressed first!_" she thought but said, "Ok."

She quickly stepped into the room and slammed the door to lean against it with a heavy sigh.

"So much for him being in his room," she groaned, obviously. "Knock next time, you idiot! Now I won't be able to think about anything but---" She cut herself off before saying what she was thinking. If she said it, it would only make it worse.

"Dear Diary…" she recited then fake sobbed, "He's _too_ gorgeous!"

* * *

Joyce hurried past his door to get to the stairs and stopped at the top stair. Smiling she sat herself on the railing, hugging her clothes tightly to herself and slid herself down the railing. She couldn't stop herself from giggling but the giggling turned into a gasp when Shane suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She couldn't stop herself from sliding and when she reached the end he simply gripped her wrist before she could jump off the rail herself.

"Don't do that again," he ordered, flatly and Joyce sighed as she rolled her eyes when he let go of her wrist.

"Were my mom's orders to not let me have any fun?" she wondered sarcastically, ignoring her split second of disappointment that he was in his pajamas and not his towel.

"What do _you_ think?" Shane shot back. "Boot camp means no fun."

Joyce rolled her eyes and sighed again as she headed for her suitcase and put her clothes away. She noticed a set of her military duds on the coffee table, neatly folded, her boots on the floor. A gray shirt, this time. She frowned at it then turned to Shane who was still standing where he'd been.

"What are you? My nanny?" she snapped, pointing at the clothes. "I don't need you to set up my outfit for the next day!"

"Just showing what you _should_ do the night before," he replied. "There's your sheets and pillow. Lights out in thirty minutes."

"Or what?" she muttered as he started to walk away, not wanting him to hear it, but he stopped and turned on his heel.

"Or you'll be really tired tomorrow," he shot back and headed back up the stairs.

"Just don't get me up at oh-dark-thirty, huh?!" she called and Shane stopped half-way up the stairs in shock. He turned and looked at her as she started setting up to go to sleep. She looked up and noticed him staring at her with wide eyes. "What?"

"You know what time oh-dark-thirty is?" he wondered.

"Yeah," Joyce shrugged with a frown of wonder at why he was surprised. "_Really_ early in the morning, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded but said nothing else as he headed up the stairs again. Why was he surprised? He _should_ have been surprised when she didn't question him about military time he'd been using. He hadn't thought about it then, but the fact that she'd actually used military time, it made it sink in a bit who she was. The daughter of two military parents. He couldn't tell her or her mother, but she was growing on him.

* * *

Joyce fluffed her pillow then flopped onto the couch, her hands cradling her head as she sat in the dark. She sat up, looked around then rummaged around her suitcase on the floor next to her. She pulled out her diary and a small flashlight and crossed her legs to sit Indian style on the couch.

_Dear Diary,_

_I saw him...shirtless. As if I didn't have enough of a problem thinking he was hot, now I know what he looks like without his shirt, which makes it worse 'cause he's so hot! Mom's right, I'm boy crazy. __Way__ boy crazy. He's still a pain in the ass...it's just that now, he's a hot one._

_If my mom wanted me to shape up, why didn't she just do this herself, or send me to a __real__ boot camp? She could have done this after she came back from...where ever it is she's gone. She never tells me where she's going. She always says good-bye like it's the last time she'll see me. She comes back just fine. I don't know what her problem is._

_If she's so worried she won't come back alive, why doesn't she just stay home? Quit the military like Shane did. I don't understand my mother. She won't discipline me herself, but she'll have someone I don't know do it __for__ her._

_I know what it is. I'm a burden to her. She doesn't wanna say it, but I know it's true. I've __been__ a burden since dad died. I don't know why she just doesn't __tell__ me what's wrong so I can fix it. I mean, I know my behavior ticks her off sometimes, but there's something else wrong. There always is. We talked when dad died but she was always holding stuff back. It can't be me. It's __her__._

_Well, it might be me a little. I wish she'd just talk to me. She never talks to me like she used to when dad was around. We'd talk about everything, anything and sometimes even nothing. Why can't we have that now? Is she afraid I've changed? I haven't, really. Is she afraid I blame her for dad dying? I don't. Is she afraid I'll burst into tears if she starts talking about him? I'm past it. What the hell is so wrong that she won't just talk to me?_

_Well, I don't think I'll ever find out. I'd better get to bed before Shane comes down and sees the light on. I have a feeling he's gonna get me up way too early tomorrow. Night_

Joyce sighed and shut her diary then wiped away a tear that threatened to trickle down her cheek. She missed home already. Sleeping in her own bed instead of a lumpy couch. No matter how hot Shane was, she'd rather be home and with her mother than here in this unfamiliar house with him.

She put her diary in her suitcase and the flashlight under her pillow in case she needed it later in the night then pulled the blankets over her as she laid down to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** i figured we should get a peek into why she's acting the way she is. anywho...reviews?


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